Genesis
by Harlequin Sequins
Summary: It was the first time she'd seen her baby smile.
1. Aang

**Author's Note: **This is a short two shot I wrote about Aang's mother (who I left unnamed for now), since we never really learned about who she was. It's probably not what it was like, but I took the information I knew about the Air Nomads from watching the show and reading the wiki info and applied it to the writing. Hopefully it comes across as believable.

Thanks for reading!

**Disclaimer - I don't own Aang. He belongs to Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko**.

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It startled her awake, the small changes in the air around her. It shifted and almost seemed to purr as it slithered back over her, grazing gently across her skin.

She still felt sore, a mere week after the birth of Aang, and her body felt empty. Like a void…a hollow pocket without purpose. But she was alive and well and after such a close brush with death she could not let her spirits be dampened by the strange feeling that had settled over her psyche.

Meditation appeared to ease the ache that still held her hostage and attending to Aang gave her purpose.

All was well…

Except for one small dilemma that haunted every step that brought her closer to his departure to the Western Air Temple, where he might have to stay.

A great many of the children were raised and then trained in the Airbending ways at the temples, where the monks resided. Children who had been orphaned were the majority, but a great deal were taken to the temple. A mother or father who were painfully aware of the fact that they could not properly take care of their precious little one knew they could ensure their child's safety if they left them with the monks.

It was a painful separation, but for the good of their children – it had to be done.

She was certain that she would not have to resort to such a thing as leaving her child behind. She could take care of Aang, no matter how hard it became – she would always have food for him to eat and a place for him to lay his head. She would teach him how to walk and how to airbend and travel the world with him. A constant companion – her dearest loved one.

Her husband had died before she knew Aang had even been conceived; he was taken from her by a terrible sickness, one of the unpredictable disadvantages of the nomadic lifestyle. He passed away in her arms, the twilight closing in around her as his last breath was pulled from his body as if by a string. She'd never felt so alone before.

But being a strong and stubborn woman, she struggled to force the palpable presence of bereavement from her mind, her body, the feeling resting even in the roots of her soul. Meditation kept her sanity intact for a little while, but when she discovered she was pregnant with Aang, she could hold on no longer – she cried that night, clutching her stomach as if holding onto the last piece of him.

And the next morning, her cheeks stained with salty tears, she resolved to cry no more.

It was tradition, for the monks to raise the orphaned, the abandoned, the children of mothers and fathers who couldn't take care of them. Sensibility was mostly the culprit of this custom, as the monks were a particularly peaceful strain of Airbender that had grown out of their restless wanderings and settled down in the world, let their roots grow. As young creatures, they had been a slave to their will to keep moving, never look back, feel the currents of air that surrounded them in a vast blanket.

The world was open to them and they were free to roam its many paths, sate the hunger for knowledge and the thirst for freedom.

But after their age began to set in and they became unable to ignore the weariness which maturity entailed, they left the nomadic lifestyle and let the world be open to the youth of the era. It only made sense that the children that didn't travel the world would be nurtured by the masters of the Airbending discipline. And then, when they were older and wiser, and able to wield the raw currents of the air around them, they were liberated from the temples, permitted to go wherever they wished.

She tried to ignore the possibility of having to give Aang up. She had no choice; if it was for Aang's own good, for him to harness his power, then they would force her. It would be no use fighting them as there was power in numbers and the hallowed halls of the temples were surely not wanting in the influence of human life.

All that she knew was that the next Avatar would be an Airbender. As removed from the world as she had been for the last nine months of her life, she at least was aware of the news of Avatar Roku's recent death. It had been two weeks since his passing; the new Avatar had already been born.

If Aang was the chosen one, then it was her duty to deliver him to the temple to be educated in the disciplines of his past lives.

It was being separated from him that she knew would be the most painful decision of her life.

She sighed deeply, inhaling the fragrant auras of the breathing mountains outside the cool shelter of the cave. Her uneasy thoughts were left to their own devices.

Suddenly, she felt she was being watched.

Her body shifted and turned so that she lay on her side. When she settled into her new position, she found Aang's wide, deep gray eyes locked on her. His father's eyes.

She looked down at him and he looked back at her, still crooning softly and moving in that erratic sort of way that at first had concerned her. But after a mere few days of motherhood, her maternal instincts allowed her at least the comfort of knowing he was a healthy little boy. Sleep, perhaps, she was deprived of as he woke every two hours to cry, but it was nothing she could not bear after receiving such a gift of life.

She already loved him; she had loved him the moment she realized she was pregnant with him, even in the wake of her husband's death.

An unspoken bond between mother and son began to weave itself in the midst of their unwavering focus. Her chest heaved once more, exhaling forcefully, and she chuckled a little as she brushed a stray black hair from his forehead.

He outstretched his arms and his flailing limbs reached desperately for her retreating finger.

"Here you are, my dear one," she murmured softly, offering the appendage; she laughed as he began suckling her thumb, mewling as he did so.

Her cheeks began to ache from smiling so much, but as his clear gray eyes closely watched her movements and he began to imitate the gesture, albeit awkwardly, she felt it was worth it.

It was the first time she'd seen her baby smile.


	2. Time

**Author's Notes: **Next chapter. They'll all be relatively short, though I'm not sure how long this will be. Enjoy!

_Disclaimer - Aang belongs to the creators of A:TLA. The unnamed OC belongs to me._

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It was near morning when Aang awoke her with his cries, the dawn just beginning to unfurl its golden feelers across the fading night sky. Her eyes were tired as she hurried to his small white crib and picked him up from his bed, checking him over thoroughly before coming to realize, quickly, that he was hungry. She hushed him and coaxed him to nurse, all the while singing a quiet chant as she appraised his rounded features and rocked him back and forth.

The night receded even more around them and the air began to shift in mood. When she awoke, even in her grogginess she could feel the tranquil stillness around her, the atmosphere flowing through her, always moving. But as the dawn progressed, it began to stir and she felt its animation return.

Every Airbender, it was said, could feel the certain changes in personality in the ambiance around them.

But the pulse of the morning heavens that hung overhead like a veil was only white noise to her. She held her baby's hand tightly, careful not to hurt him, knowing very well that it would be the last time she might ever see him.

It was the most important day of her baby's life. The day she would relinquish her child to the hands of his destiny. She had always known he'd been special, being the epicenter of her whole world, but perhaps Aang was not of this world – the embodiment of the Earth. A deity in human form.

She, in turn, would begin her life as a young nomad to discover the strange new world which she had never known.

Whether Aang would come with her or not.

Her own comfort was knowing Aang would be in good hands if he was chosen to stay in the temple; he would be protected and cared for and loved, and although she offered him an abundance of her own maternal adoration and attachment, she knew it would be the best for the world if Aang was chosen and would remain behind.

A nursemaid and protector for him had already been selected in light of this decision and the arrangements for his departure confirmed. She would quit the temple completely after Aang had completely vanished from her sight.

Only then could she leave, knowing he was safe.

A few hours passed in peaceful repose. She paced the length of her quarters with Aang in her arms, singing ancient chants to calm him when he became distressed and making faces at him when he was playful. In his first few weeks, Aang had been a creature of fragility and subsistence, living only to nurse and sleep, it seemed. But as his first month progressed, he began to change, his personality growing with each passing day.

His crowning glory had been his first laugh. It was a frail sound, almost too broken and faltering to identify as an expression of mirth at all. But she was positively glowing with pride for his achievement and rewarded him with a soar over her head.

And he rewarded her with another shriek of laughter, which faded into a tickled little giggle.

She had pressed her nose against his and felt his tiny hands on her cheeks.

As his first month arrived, she knew her attachment to Aang was too strong. The tradition usually entailed that a mother left as soon as the baby was born, to avoid such a thing from happening, but there were occasions in which this was impossible for some. She, in her struggle to stay alive during Aang's birth, was an exception to the rule – she was allowed to stay until her strength returned to her. Only when she was fully recovered would she leave.

In her own private musings, she knew she had lied somewhat to delay the inevitable. She had always been physically weak, prone to sickness and was easily fatigued throughout her life, and so the monks believed her. And though it bought her extra time with Aang, she still felt guilty for her falsehoods.

Especially as more days passed and Aang became the most important influence in her life.

A knock at the door. The sound echoed through the room and, instinctively, she closed her eyes and pulled Aang tight against her.

It opened and small, measured footsteps came in. The air changed, rushing in with the arrival of the visitor. Her arms instinctively held Aang closer, her cheek pressed against his warm, soft head.

"_It is time."_


End file.
